


Pack Street: Generations Miscellany

by PseudoFox



Category: Pack Street - Fandom, Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Anthropomorphic, Awkwardness, Comedy, Drama, F/M, Furry, Humor, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Major Original Character(s), Minor Original Character(s), Snark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 05:11:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16947627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PseudoFox/pseuds/PseudoFox
Summary: This is a collection of one-shots for my "Being a Six-Year-Old Is a Full Time Job" and "Pack Street: The Next Generation" story series that don't fit into the continuity directly, but I still wanted to share them.





	Pack Street: Generations Miscellany

**Not long after the Bellwether incident, in a sidewalk in the middle of Pack Street...**

"I did, Aunt Scamper, just like I promised," Remmy Cormo said into his newly bought smartphone, "and... what?" The protesting noises of the elderly ewe on the other end of the line was prime-grade headache fuel. He slid the device a bit down his cheek as he prepared to go on. "Look, I wouldn't lie to you like that. I've got the little container right here." The ram lifted a hoof and wiggled a plain blue and white striped canister wrapped in plastic.

The jiggling sound satisfied Remmy's anxiety-filled relative. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, he placed his phone back into his pocket and walked into the apartment complex before him. The striped canister returned to one of the swinging bags of groceries from whence it came. A few seconds passed as he stepped across the living room into the apartment's massive bedroom.

The ram gazed at the Betty's massive belly as a deeply contented sigh slipped out of his mouth. The past several months collectively had hit him like the force from a Toyota Camelry missing a red light— something that had nearly happened to him that very morning as he grabbed the fresh groceries. Remmy tapped a hoof against the open apartment door and turned for the kitchen area.

"There you are," the wolf declared in a quiet yet strident voice, her face still buried half underneath a pillow.

"There I am," the ram softly replied.

"How weird do you think the cravings are getting?"

Remmy had given the matter quite a bit of thought over the past several weeks' repeated trips to the grocery store. Still, he didn't want to press the point too much with the precious lady that had transformed from his distant crush to his close girlfriend. The ram shut his eyes and ran a hoof along his temple.

"Fried cheese and hash on vanilla ice cream seems to make sense, at least on a texture and consistency level," Remmy remarked.

"It's a step down from chopped pickles on popcorn."

"Or, of course, fried cod covered in chocolate mints and ketchup."

"Hey, you'd better let me live that one done, fluff," Betty responded with a joking raise to her voice.

"Take your time getting to the table," Remmy simply said. He grinned as he stepped over to Betty's huge refrigerator and placed in a few items. He then slipped the rest out of his grocery bags onto the cleaned-off counters.

As he slipped the can opener over the first container of grilled soy and potato chunks, Remmy let his mind wander for the umpteenth time that day. Even though months had passed, being in a relationship with Betty still felt like a dream. He still remembered the first day that he'd asked her out on a date— coming right on the moment of returning that one lewd picture that he'd found of her in his apartment.

The wolf had tossed out a "What, really?" and a "Sure, why not?" with what looked like perfect predatory instinct. Meanwhile, with the few seconds of waiting for a response, Remmy's subconscious mind had burned itself to a crisp going over snide remarks that she could've said. Despite being there to rescue Remmy right after Bellwether's scheme went undone by that one crowd of angry teenagers— the hyenas never showing their face in Pack Street since— and spending a huge amount of time covering for him as the pack's 'beta', Remmy hadn't realized until that very moment how mixed up their lives together had gotten

"Speaking of getting mixed up," Remmy muttered to himself. He splattered the hash on a big pan and tossed on a thick layer of imitation cheese— Betty had specifically asked to forgo the real stuff— before turning on the oven's burner. He reached over for a big fork and sucked in a little breath. "This already smells nice. Do I have to ruin it... twice?"

The bubbling of the pseudo-cheese failed to answer Remmy's inner debate. The ram could've simply stared at the greasy mess for another full minute. Instead, he reached over for the blue and white container that housed one of the weirdest half of his family's superstitions.

"Crushed spiders, guaranteed to contain at least ten percent tarantula per ounce?" Remmy read the label for the umpteenth time. He heard the creaky words of his one cousin with the tall black ventilator repeating over and over again. Remmy felt annoyed enough to tap his head against the nearby cardboard to get some sense back into him.

"Douse this in during every one of her biggest cravings, yeah, and you've got a guaranteed 'boy'," Remmy muttered under his breath, repeating every word Aunt Scamper had harangued him with, "a bona-fide, all-Zootopian patriotic boy? A beer swelling, muscle-flexing, giant horn brandishing, a-number-one heterosexual, and all the rest... _boy._ Yes, even if it'd been a girl beforehoof."

Remmy's relatives had worn him down to the point that he'd given up any resistance. They even managed to tell the difference between wiggling a can of fresh Tic-Tacs and the authentic crunching, swooshing sound of a Kettler's Korner Kompressed Kan o' Spiders getting hit. It seemed like some kind of a lame superpower to the ram.

"And the ice cream," Remmy announced to himself. He reached over and scooped it onto the hash plus phony cheese filled pan. "Now, the magic starts." He crunched open the fateful can and dripped it all over the mix.

"Almost ready?" Betty's gruff voice filtered in from across the hall. She'd clearly slunk herself out of bed to eat a proper meal at the kitchen table.

"One moment!" Remmy called out.

That next moment wound up being fateful indeed.

It all started with a turn of Remmy's ear fluff over atop the pan. A patch of grease took that second to suddenly splash upwards. It splattered itself against only a smidgen of the ram's thick wool, but the pain felt like a sudden stab from a downtown Zootopian mugger into Remmy's side.

The ram instinctively jumped away from the burner. That, in turn, caused the big Kettler's Korner container to hurl itself up from the bottom of Remmy's hooves to the middle of his startled face. Of course, Remmy had eaten all kinds of insects and other crushed, formerly living things before.

Emptying out the canister accidentally onto his nose, though, made him realize that one particular spider had survived the experience.

"Sweet merciful lamb of God, it's in my _eye_!" Remmy screamed, flipping his body across the kitchen table beside him. His hooves desperately waved all across his overcome face. "It's _alive_!"

Betty scrambled forward and seized Remmy's side, trying to force the ram to calm down. A scurrying motion across Remmy's face caused Betty to give the ram's cheek a hard swat. The offending creature got hurled through the air. In a spit-second, bits of spider guts littered the underside of the kitchen table.

She grumbled as she brushed the ram's face clean. That should've gotten Remmy to stop and get back on his bearings. Instead, the overcome mammal shot up a hoof to stand up straight. That hoof managed to grip the still-cooking pan and accidentally tossed it forwards.

Betty's fantastic reflexes, of course, meant that she ducked in time. The drywall behind her, though, had nowhere to go. A huge mess of scrambled items landed on the pale whiteness with a loud splattering noise. The pan itself left a noticeable dent before gravity did its work and plopped it straight downwards, the metal landing somewhat conveniently into an open garbage can.

"Uh, Betty, _thanks,_ " Remmy muttered, the ram sucking in air. Meanwhile, the wolf clutched a nearby roll of paper towels. Both mammals stared at the dent in the drywall.

**Around half a decade later...**

"And that's where the heart in the middle of the kitchen came from," Betty concluded, the wolf rocking her son in her arms.

"Interesting," Johnny finally remarked. He tried to force his bored-looking expression to show some kind of enthusiasm; the young mammal's mind kept returning to the Zoogle Plus smartphone games that his mother's little story had taken him from.

"That and, well, your father being too scared to try and patch the drywall himself," Betty murmured under her breath.

"Is there a moral to this story, mom?"

"Yes," the wolf began, turning her son over so that their eyes met, "first things first: your father doesn't like to talk about his family for a reason. They're a bunch of embarrassing, superstitious morons."

_"Got it."_

"Second," Betty continued, "try not to push your dad too much on getting a pet, alright? Especially one of the creepy-quality variety that's bigger than hoof-size. He's still rather sensitive about that."

Instead of giving an answer, Johnny simply gave his mother a big hug. She happily hugged him right back. For the wolf, the moment felt truly perfect.

**[End of Chapter One]**

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks very much for reading!
> 
> This piece here is written as a part of the recurring 'Thematic Thursday' event, with this recent one being focused on superstitions. It's meant to be a part of the 'Being a Six-Year-Old Is a Full Time Job' and 'Pack Street: The Next Generation' universe that I've been working on. Please check the broader series out if you enjoyed reading this one-shot, and please comment if you've got any concerns, worries, vents, or the like that you've got to say. As well, thanks once again for taking a look at this piece.


End file.
